


even if not forever

by rosegoddess221



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Stream of Consciousness, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:16:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22440943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosegoddess221/pseuds/rosegoddess221
Summary: Short fic about the banquet and Calanthe's thoughts on destiny.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	even if not forever

**Author's Note:**

> This is entirely based on the scene in the show, I haven't gotten a chance to play the games or read the books.

Calanthe has always known what might happen.

The night of the banquet, where her daughter’s worried face overlooked the crowd of men vying for her hand, was one that she wouldn’t forget. So many possibilities in that room.

She noted Crach an Craite, loud and boisterous, Eist by the table, the guards by the doors, their swords and staffs in hand keeping an eye over the revelry. The Witcher standing by the sidelines, and a mug of ale in his hand and a careful golden eye on the Queen and the bard, curiously, as he sasses the lords in the room with ease.

Images flash before her eyes (chaos, nightmares, the best outcome, the worst possible outcome, the blood drawn before her eyes and every death in this room over and over and over-)

(A swirling storm, a desperate face, a slash of a broadsword as it cuts a pike in half, a dagger aimed at a throat-)

“Come, Witcher. Take a seat by my side while I change.” Anything to keep her eye on him, to guess the outcome.

As Calanthe dresses out of her armor, cleans the blood off her face and out of her hair and stitches up the tight dress and braids her hair up, she thinks back.

This was one of the few moments she had ever seen. It was not her mother’s gift she had been blessed (cursed) with. It was something else. Calanthe didn’t know if Pavetta had gotten her gift, but she knew she had her grandmother’s, even if she had never shown a sign (to anyone but her dreams.) This was one of the few things she had seen.

It was the only one she could maybe control, and control it she would.

She spoke with the Witcher, Geralt of Rivia, for a few moments before the suitors started trying their hand. Curious notions of the bard (very interesting- what was going on there? A debt, a favor, more perhaps?), and Kaer Morhen’s fate, and an undeniable refusal to aid her (his destiny) this evening. Hopefully, she could learn more before the moment she had seen.

(A sword in hand, cutting down figures in black armor in low firelight in a street filled with bodies-)

She demolished Peregrine, the fool, before letting others come front and fail to take Pavetta’s hand. Most tonight probably knew of her plans with Skellige but would try anyway, in case that fell through. Noble (in the worst sense of the term), but ultimately useless. She knew Eist and the Skelligans fairly well- they wouldn’t break the deal, not unless someone(thing) forced their hand.

And then the eighth bell struck, and a stranger burst through the door, fighting back guards, his helmet secured on his head.

This was not the best outcome.

Yes, everything had gone as bloodlessly as possible- a fight was unavoidable once the Witcher had shown up to the engagement banquet. The room could be redone, fixed up from the chaos that Pavetta had caused (it had happened, everyone knew she had the gift, everyone knew now), the lords compensated for their losses. But this is what she had feared-

“Fine. I... claim the tradition as you have.”

(A little baby in her arms, eyes piercing at a grand 3 minutes old. She would do anything to protect her, this child.)

“The Law of Surprise.”

(A child running on unsteady legs to her mother’s arms, Duny watching with pride and Calanthe and Eist holding each other. A little girl bright with laughter as Calanthe comes home from another battle.)

“Give me what you have, but do not know.”

(A funeral, every sacred rite for the royal family administered. A little girl in black, tired tear tracks down her face. A year of mostly silence as Cirilla learns her world without her parents.) 

(A quiet girl, running her hands on the books in the library, watching the knights training, standing for a dress fitting before a ceremony. Reading a book in Eist’s lap while she’s small enough to sit there.)

(Sitting on her knees playing knucklebones and looking to the side as if at an apparition, running down a hallway towards her grandmother’s raised voice.)

“Don’t worry, Your Majesty. The next time you see me in your kingdom, it will be to kill a monster, not lay claim to a crop or a new pup.

(A city on fire, an open window showing the smoking ruins.)

“Destiny can go fu-”

Pavetta gave a gasp and vomited onto the floor, held up by Calanthe’s hand on her shoulder and Duny’s arm on hers, and she saw the last bits of destiny she ever would before her grandchild was bound to the Witcher’s side.

(Running through the woods, a child by Cirilla’s side, a worn blue cloak, always running. The trees standing upright as if waiting for them to meet as she crashes into his chest-)

(Arms around her, warm and safe, the first time in a while.)

(Those linked by destiny will always find each other.)

“Fuck.”

Her thoughts exactly.

(She will keep this child, her granddaughter safe for as long as she can. Fight every battle she can win. Try to outlast bittersweet destiny as long as she can.)

(Even if not forever.)

**Author's Note:**

> I just had this idea about if Calanthe had known what might happen, how she might have known, wrote it down in an hour. She never had a gift (probably why she got the amazing fighting prowess she does in canon), and I figured might as well. What if she got something different? The first thing I've ever posted. Comments welcome!


End file.
